


In the Shadow of an Operation

by ninamazing



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Character Study, Community: tenyearsoftww, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-04
Updated: 2009-11-04
Packaged: 2017-10-03 00:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He actually hugged her; it was a quick, top-heavy affair, but he was warm, and she let his overstuffed briefcase smash a bruise into her breast without comment.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Shadow of an Operation

"Political news now," droned the oddly reptilian anchor of NBS's early morning show; at the moment she was sporting a hairstyle that Donna could only imagine was a badly conceived beehive. "A shocking reshuffle in the Democratic Party as leading presidential nominee John Hoynes says goodbye to his campaign manager."

"Josh Lyman remains a good man and a good friend," Hoynes protested, through a day-old interview clip. "He was simply overwhelmed by the scale of this campaign. I wish him well."

"Looks more like a basketball star than a presidential candidate," murmured Donna.

"What's that, babe?" Chris called from the hallway.

"Nothing," she shouted back.

"Lyman is now working for the presidential campaign of Governor Jed Bartlet of New Hampshire, who announced his candidacy in Nashua several weeks ago. No word yet on what this means exactly for the Hoynes campaign, although the Senator has promised there will be no major message shifts."

"Good morning," said Chris, now behind her; he squeezed her shoulder and leaned in for a quick kiss. "You're not at work yet?"

He tasted like beer, sleep, and toothpaste, in that order.

"We're not opening 'til late today," she told him. "Doctor's got a bar mitzvah or something."

"Don't you mean a bris?" he snickered.

"No, I mean a family thing," she answered, rolling her eyes. He took the remote and cut the favored Republican nominee off in mid-sentence.

"Wanna have breakfast?" he asked, massaging her neck. She rolled her eyes again, but snuggled into his touch.

"Maybe," she allowed.

"Pancakes," he whispered, and sunk his teeth gently into the top of her ear to make her shiver. She relaxed into him for a few moments; savored the attention of those arms, those lips.

"The Democratic presidential nominee kind of looks like you," she told him dreamily.

"Come on," he said. "My shift starts at 9. Put on a skirt and let's go."

"You know this is the first time in months I've had the morning off," she said, getting up. "Just thought I'd mention it."

Chris wrapped an arm around her waist, then smacked her lightly on the ass to make her fake a scowl at him.

"I love you," he called as she disappeared behind the bathroom door.

"Don't I know it," Donna said to her reflection.  


+

  
She saw Josh change for the first time in California. She watched his step — it had lengthened, somehow, or maybe that was just him getting off the plane. He actually hugged her; it was a quick, top-heavy affair, but he was warm, and she let his overstuffed briefcase smash a bruise into her breast without comment.

"Your mom sounded better," she said as they slipped into the terminal Starbucks.

"Yeah," he replied, not looking at her. "I think. Yeah." He busied himself with his Blackberry until they each had an Americano and Donna was behind the wheel.

"Toby says our percentages are looking good," she ventured. "CJ's putting together some numbers for Maryland and Ohio."

Josh was staring into his coffee. "I called them," he said. "No one answered. I didn't _think_ — I might have been in time. I could have called the hospital. Could have gotten to him, maybe. Before — _dammit_, Donna, I could've ..."

She glanced over. Josh had actually stopped talking, was slumped against the window as if he were almost hoping to topple out of the car. His eyes were closed, against tears.

"Josh," she said softly. "I might have to pull over and comfort you, but I'm afraid you might have ODed on that in the past few days."

"Yeah," he said after a moment, shaking himself off. "Yeah. I need to think about something else. You said Maryland and Ohio?"

"Yup," she said, shooting him a tiny twist of a smile. "We're trying to hold the momentum. Governor Bartlet has even been talking to other people. You know, not just Leo."

"That's good," he replied, and let out a quick laugh. "That's good."

In the hotel, before the elevator got up to his floor, she hugged him again. He wrapped his arms around her back, dropped his head to her shoulder, breathed like the smell of her was clearing his lungs. She held his head, kissed his cheek. They broke apart before the doors reopened, and looked at the carpet.  


+

  
"Donna, I need the thing. For the budget thing," Josh mumbled into his fingers as she entered his office. He was crouched over his desk, one hand holding up his chin. Post-midday-snack slump.

"It's on your desk," she said, switching out his coffee cup for a fresh one.

"_Where_ on my desk?"

"I put it there at 7:30 this morning." She dropped a new stack of memos onto what looked like the most recently attended pile, and he scowled first at them and then at her.

"Where?"

"You didn't see it?" She said it casually, easily, knowing that would make him stand up fast. Get the blood flowing. He had to be at least mostly awake for this lunch.

"Donna! The GAO report, '97-'98 fiscal year, red file folder —"

"Josh! You know I don't like it when you yell at me."

"So just to be clear — I can yell at other people?" He punctuated this with a gulp of coffee. That was fast; he was sure as hell awake now, wisecracking to her in his loosened tie and open collar, all sarcastic baiting eyes.

"It's blue. _Blue_ file folder, Josh."

"Shit — blue?" He set down his coffee and started shuffling through his papers, destroying first the pile with the ones she'd just given him. She sighed, dropped the cup into his trash can, made a mental note to have them take out his trash before it mutated, and reached underneath his arm to pick out the blue file folder with three fingers.

"Blue file folder," she repeated, and handed it to him. "So that was the 7:30 pile. You've gotten pretty far for one day."

"You know, Donna," he said, easing back into his chair, "sometimes you can be a real pain in the ass."

"I know."

"Let me buy you lunch."

She stopped, halfway out the door, and gave him an odd half-smile. She felt like she was blushing for some reason.

"You can't," she told him. "Leo says you have to convince Perlman about the domestic violence amendment."

"Please?" He gave her a honeyed look, and she shook her head.

"You have to work, Josh. For the women. And I have to prepare your remarks for the energy conference."

"Fine," he answered, and took a moody slurp of coffee. "But remember what I said before."

"About me being a pain in the ass?"

"Exactly."

"I've got a mind like a steel trap, Josh," she said over her shoulder, one hand resting on his doorframe. "You know that."  


+

  
She'd blown up the air mattress for him, had even put sheets on it, but in the end she suspected he hadn't touched the thing. She found him sprawled on his back on her grandmother's thick knitted rug, cats dozing on him at all angles. After she kicked his foot four times he finally stirred, and the cats fled with reproachful glances at their owner.

"Bluuunnnnngh," he muttered with one hand over his eyes.

"Good morning, Josh."

"Donna," he moaned.

"That's me. I'm here," she said undramatically, crossing her arms as she looked down at him.

"Donna, I need that thing you made me the morning after the election. You know? With the tomato juice and the —"

"The Bloody Mary?"

"Nooo, not a Bloody Mary. The — the — the freakin' hangover cure. That's what you called it."

"I also call it a Bloody Mary."

"Noooo! Listen, it had protein in it or something. You made it for me so I'd get up from under the couch, remember —"

"Josh?"

He opened his eyes, gazed at her from between two fingers like he was afraid she was going to kill him. "Donna?"

"Bloody Mary. That's what it was. Now do you want one or not?"

He stared at her for a long moment; he tried not to blink, and she tried not to laugh.

"Yes," he admitted. "Thank you, Donna."

"It's no problem. No problem at all." She knelt, and grinned, and ruffled his hair.

"Hey!"

"As long as you let me do that," she told him, and headed to the kitchen.  


+

  
The President wouldn't leave Josh's side until nurses and Secret Service agents hustled him out; Donna would later hear Mrs. Landingham mutter that the ridiculous man considered himself responsible. Josh was sleeping already by the time they let Donna in, "but you can hold his hand if you like, dear heart," said the nurse; "it won't disturb him."

Well, if it won't disturb him, she thought, half-sarcastic or half-insane, and took his hand. It felt clammy and unfamiliar, and the caffeine and adrenaline of the last twelve hours were coalescing into a noxious mess in her body. Josh didn't look like Josh with tubes in his arms and a mask over his face; he didn't look like Josh underneath a blue cotton blanket that barely covered his feet.

And it had been doubly unsettling, driving here past the staff parking lot where she used to wait for Chris. Where he used to dawdle until she got out of the car, so the other residents could see he had a blonde knockout for a girlfriend.

Josh was breathing, steadily; she watched his chest, and she could almost hear it over the dim noise of pages and alerts and chatter. Above his cheeks, his eyelashes fluttered.

She pressed her cheek to the back of his hand, and then her lips; and then her cheek again.

"I'll stay right here, Josh," she whispered. "I'm right here."


End file.
